


Mardi Gras Murder

by Lilly_C



Series: Inking It Out 2020 [4]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, An X-File Case, F/M, Gen, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Work Up For Adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-26
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_C/pseuds/Lilly_C
Summary: One by one people in New Orleans are being killed by an axe-murderer in the build up to Mardi Gras.
Relationships: John Doggett/Monica Reyes
Series: Inking It Out 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585828





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (2003:) I found a real-life murder case on the web that has remained unsolved since the early 1900's. After reading up on the Axe man of New Orleans I decided to turn the unsolved murders into an XF fic. A lot of forensic evidence went unnoticed due to crime scene investigations not been what they are today.

NEW ORLEANS, JANUARY 24TH 

To most people it was just another ordinary January evening, for Isobel it wasn't. The alleyway outside Isobel's apartment was overrun with rotting garbage, for the rats it was a haven, where they could happily dive in and out of the garbage bags. The only outside light came from a flickering street light two kilometres from Isobel's apartment.

The engine of a car was rumbling close to her apartment and she heard none of it. For she was slumped forwards in her chair, with her resting on the kitchen table mere inches from a plate of home-made beef stew.

She was far too exhausted to notice that a few errant strands of hair had fallen into the half-eaten beef stew. Had she not been as exhausted as she was, she would have realized that despite the noise coming from the streets, it was no ordinary evening.

"Isobel you try far too hard to be rebellious." The masked man smiled menacingly at Isobel. "I have a job to do, best get this over with."

He placed his right hand over her mouth to restrict her breathing. He raised his left hand with his thumb and middle finger, lightly gripping the cool edges of the razor.

"My dear girl you had to pick tonight no to have the heating on." He glanced at Isobel's apartment for a few moments. “This apartment of yours really could do with the once over."

Isobel woke as she could feel a cool, sharp object on her throat, she thought she was going to have an asthma attack, yet was surprised to see the masked man smiling at her.

"W... who... who are you?" Isobel gasped.

The masked man, although shaking because of the chill, didn't answer Isobel, nor did he hesitate for one moment before cutting her throat from ear to ear and severing her windpipe.

He placed the razor next to Isobel's head. He picked up a double-edged axe and due to the weight he held the handle with both hands before forcefully striking Isobel in the head. Isobel fell to the floor, lying face-up with blood and brain tissue pouring freely from her head wound. Her cream coloured cotton dress was stained with blood.

"Who am I? I'm your worst nightmare come true. I've given you the peace you so richly deserve dear girl." Kicking a few mouldy take-out cartons, the masked man smiled as he made his way towards the bathroom.

The masked man entered the bathroom and walked to the other side of the room. He turned on the taps. A few moments passed before he hastily cleaned the axe of Isobel's blood, watching the blood swirl in sync with the water and the brain tissue clinging to the bottom of the bathtub. He turned off the taps before leaning the axe against the side of the bathtub.

As he made his way to exit the bathroom he removed his blood stained clothes, discarding them in a neat pile in the middle of the bathroom floor. "Good night Isobel my sweet. Thank you."

67 BENNETT AVENUE, JANUARY 27TH, 4AM

John watched Monica sleep for a few moments before gently nudging her in the ribs. He loved watching her sleep. She looked like an angel, although he knew that after last night she was far from angelic.

"Monica, wake up."

"Time is it?" enquired Monica, yawning as she turned to face John.

"Four am."

Monica took John's hand and placed it on her waist, moving closer to him.

"John, you warthog you have all the covers.... No wonder I'm so cold."

John chuckled. "You're not cold Monica.... Far from it."

Monica smiled at John, "I know I'm hot but even I....."

Monica's mobile rang. John answered. "Yeah hello?"

"Hi my name is Jamie Carlsen I'm trying to reach Special Agent Monica Reyes."

John passed Monica then phone.

"Yeah who is it?"

"Monica I'm sorry to wake you, it's Jamie Carlsen."

John began tickling Monica's neck.

"Jamie what's so important that couldn't wait a couple of hours?"

"A young woman was killed in her apartment three days ago. The way in which she was killed bears the hallmarks of the axe-murders of the early nineteen hundreds."

Monica used her free hand to tickle John's stomach.

"Jamie, do you want me to fly out to New Orleans?"

"No not yet. I've faxed the police report to an Assistant Director an erm.... Walter Skinner at the FBI in Washington. I assume he'll want to see you today."

John took Monica's hand and began kissing it, before his lips worked their way up her forearm to her neck.

"OK Jamie, thank for the heads up, bye."

"Yeah bye Monica."

Monica ran her fingers through John's hair. "Even I get cold sometimes John. Do I ever do that when you’re on the phone?"

John smiled at Monica. "Monica, hob what's wrong? Who's Jamie?"

"Nothing's wrong. Jamie and I shared an apartment back in New Orleans, she's the chief inspector of the NOPD."

John pulled Monica on top of him, feeling the heat from their naked bodies.

"I know how to keep us both warm Monica."

"Really John?"

John grinned, "Yeah, we'll both enjoy it."

"I know it's true what they say about an Aries man."

"What's that?"

"More randy than a rampant ram."

John began kissing Monica's neck.

AD SKINNER'S OFFICE 8:30AM

Monica walked into Skinner's office drinking coffee from a styrofoam cup. John followed her in, and closed the door behind him before he proceeded to one of the two chairs in front of Skinner's desk.

"Agents, thank you for coming in at such short notice."

Monica moved towards the empty chair.

"Sir what's so important that couldn't wait until Monday morning?" John enquired.

"I wasn't expecting to be called in on a Saturday," Monica added.

Skinner pushed a police report towards John.

"A murder in New Orleans. Isobel Jones, police found her body in the early hours of this morning."

John glanced at Skinner. "So tell me sir, what's so special about this case that it needs our attention on a Saturday?"

"The way in which she was killed is similar to-" Skinner answered.

"-A series of axe-murders in New Orleans in the early nineteen hundreds. The killer's pattern was extremely basic as he always cut his victims throats.... But only enough to sever their windpipe, and then he hit them in the head with an axe," Monica continued.

John gave Monica a bemused glance. "Agent Reyes are you sure that's it's not something that the people of New Orleans made up to scare kids on Halloween night?"

Skinner stood up and walked towards the window. "When I was in the Marines, I was stationed in New Orleans for a few months and can therefore safely say Agent Doggett that the axe man is real."

Monica looked at John. "When I worked in the New Orleans Field Office I read up on the axe man. He was never caught. Every time he killed he did the same things at each crime scene."

"Okay so he was real. What did he do?" John mumbled.

Skinner walked back to his seat. "Every time he killed he did the same five things. Some people thought that he may have been a supernatural entity."

Monica looked at both men. "Where was I? Thoughtfully adding, "At every crime scene he chiselled out the bottom left panel of the front door, placing the straight razor next to his victims head, He always hastily cleaned the axe before leaving it in plain sight.....usually next to the bath tub, and before he left the crime scene he always discarded his blood stained clothes in the middle of the bathroom floor."

John looked confused. "So what exactly does a ninety-year old mystery have to do with the death of Isobel Jones?"

"The way in which she was killed is identical to those earlier murders. Her killer did the same five things that the original axe man did," Skinner replied solemnly.

FOX MULDER'S OFFICE, 10:30AM

"Hey Monica, you want a drink?" John enquired.

"Nah I'm fine with the three coffees I've already had this morning. I'll be bouncing off the walls if I have any more. Thanks anyway."

Monica began reading the police report into Isobel Jones' death.

"Such a tragic life, poor girl. Must have been strong to cope alone at her age."

"Who's had a tragic life? Who must have been strong to cope?"

Monica looked up to see John standing in the doorway, drinking coffee from a bright green Skyland Mountain mug.

"Isobel Jones, the girl who was murdered. Isn't that one of Mulder's mugs?"

"Yeah it is. What tragedy made her strong?"

Monica stood up and walked towards John, handing him the police report. 

"Her family died in a fire when she was nine, her brother Nigel Kuqi blamed her for their deaths and hasn't spoken to her since. They were the only survivors so she had to be strong for herself even when she thought she couldn't carry on she did."

John glanced at Monica. "You can tell all of this from a photograph?"

"Yes John I can tell all this from a photograph, then again I have just been reading the initial police and the preliminary autopsy reports."

"Thought she was a rebel, yet she looks like half the teenage population. Pretty girl though," John retorted.

John turned the page to look at the crime scene photos. "Oh god," he said in disbelief of the violence used as he passed the police report back to Monica. "At least this guy's being consistent," he added.

John sat on the edge of Monica's desk. "Please explain it to me again what this axe murder has to do with that case?"

"I'll explain it later. You know that book you have. Gumbo Ya-Ya."

John looked confused. "What about the book Monica?"

"Well Gumbo Ya-Ya is about the axe man of New Orleans."

"Oh I thought it was a crime-thriller, not a real life crime."

Kersh knocked on the door frame. "Agents, has A.D. Skinner briefed you about the murder in New Orleans?"

Monica turned around, "Yes sir, he has briefed us, we were just going over the police report."

"I'd like for you and Agent Doggett to fly out to New Orleans to assist them with the case," Kersh said.

"OK we'll get the earliest flights to New Orleans that we can book seats on," John answered.

"Your booked on a seven am flight to New Orleans, Chief Inspector Jamie Carlsen will be meet you both at New Orleans County Airport. Agent Reyes she says she knows you."

Monica looked at Kersh for a few moments. "Jamie Carlsen and I shared an apartment in New Orleans, when I worked at the field office."

Kersh left the room and headed for the lift.

Monica glanced down at the file. "Isobel Jones, aged fifteen, born January twelfth nineteen eighty nine, height five foot four inches, weight four stone nine pounds. Hair pale blue and cropped. Right eyebrow pierced twice, naval pierced horizontally and vertically."

"The naval piercing would look good on you Monica," John smiled.

Monica said "I like the one that I have."

"I like your piercing I just didn't know that you could have that area done," John replied.

Monica continued, "She worked three jobs, putting herself through high school."

John looked at the photo, "Maybe I'm just being observant here but for an Asian girl she had such pretty green eyes."

Monica stared at the door before staring at John. "Let's forget work. We can read the rest at home after we've packed for tomorrow."

"You read my mind."

NEW ORLEANS COUNTY AIRPORT, JANUARY 29TH, 11:04AM

Monica was sitting in the arrivals lounge staring impatiently at the clock. She noticed that apart from herself, a small half-caste boy and an elderly couple the lounge was relatively empty. She returned her attention to the clock while waiting for John to return with their luggage. The boy began tapping Monica on the shoulder in a vain attempt to get her attention.

"Hey kid quit it!" Monica snapped.

"You've changed since you moved to DC, Monica," Sponge calmly replied.

Monica turned her body so that was face to face with the boy, who had been tapping her incessantly for the past five minutes. Her anger began to fade when she realized she knew the boy.

"Sponge, why are you here? Where's your mom?" Monica softly enquired.

John walked towards the arrivals lounge struggling with his and Harmonica's luggage. He put the cases down for a few moments to relieve the tension he felt in his arms. Looking around the lounge he noticed Monica talking to the half-caste boy, and the elderly couple. A few moments passed before John picked up the cases and began walking towards Monica and Sponge.

"Oh my mom's waiting in the car, she asked me to come in and find you as she is still nervous about coming into airports after she was mugged at Newark Liberty," Sponge said.

"Sponge, you've grown so much since I saw you last. I'm sorry for snapping. I'm jet lagged."

"Monica, you just missed the funniest thing ever. Who's this?" John asked.

"John, this is Sponge, Jamie's son," Monica answered.

"Hey Sponge, I'm John Doggett."

Sponge enquired, "John what was so funny?"

"It was a matter of national security and I shouldn't really. I'll tell you later as I could get me into some trouble telling the story in here."

Monica and Sponge stood up. "Want me to take one John?" Monica offered as John picked up the suitcases again. "I'm fine Monica, thanks anyway." All three made their way to the exit. Once outside Monica placed her left hand just above her eyes to shield them from the mid-morning sun.

"Sponge, Monica over here!" Jamie yelled.

Jamie noticed John carrying the luggage and opened the boot for him. Once John had placed the suitcases in the boot, he shut it down and got in the back of the car. Jamie put the car into drive and pulled out of the maze-like airport car park.

JAMIE CARLSEN'S RESIDENCE, 2PM

As Jamie pulled off the main road onto her driveway, Monica became awestruck by the three story Tudor-esque building before her.

"Beautiful home you have her ma'am," John said.

Monica added, "Wow Jamie, this truly is beautiful. I remember seeing the plans before I moved to DC."

Jamie smiled politely at Monica and John.

"My mom designed it and she helped the builders out on her days off from work," Sponge enthused.

John waited for Jamie and Sponge to go inside before turning to face Monica. "You never said anything about the place being self designed."

"John, I wasn't even expecting it to be ready, let alone lived in. Jamie only submitted her application for planning permission to the local council a couple of weeks before I came to DC."

Monica took one of the suitcases from John and followed him inside. Sponge closed the door behind them and showed them to their rooms. 

Jamie went to the kitchen to make drinks for everyone.

John, Sponge and Monica returned to the kitchen a few minutes later.

"Would you like a drink?" Jamie asked.

Monica answered, "We'll have something cold, thanks Jamie."

"Tell the story now, please John," Sponge insisted.

Jamie looked up from the fridge, "What story?"

"Something happened at the airport today, although a matter of national security, it was so funny, " John replied.

Jamie handed Monica two glasses of diet coke, filled with ice cubes and decorated with a small umbrella and a black straw.

John followed Sponge and Monica to the living room. Sponge patted the sofa for John to sit down next to him.

"John tell the story," Sponge said.

"Yeah go on John, I want to hear this," Monica added.

John took a sip of his coke.  
"OK is everyone comfortable?" John asked.

"We are," Sponge and Monica replied in unison.

"Good I shall begin," John said.

"While I was waiting for our luggage, a man travelling to England caused a terror alert. He had a robotic dog, when the dog bent over it farted."

Sponge and Monica were laughing hysterically.

"It turned out the man was a computer programmer from England, and the dog was a prototype of a new toy."

Monica looked at John. "Carry on John."

"Anyway, whatever chemicals they used for the dogs farts, security had to put out a 'blue' terror alert."

"John, did the man turn the air blue?" Sponge squealed.

John looked at Sponge. "He did turn the air blue, but I'm not repeating any of what he said in front of you."

"I hate being eight."

"Was he arrested?" Monica enquired.

"Nah, they just questioned him before deciding that he wasn't a security risk and let him catch a later flight back to England."

7PM

Sponge looked at the clock on the video. "Bath time," he said excitedly.

John looked confused. "Why do you like bath time so much Sponge?" John asked.

Jamie answered John's question as she entered the room. "Sponge has Miliaria Crystalline, it means that he sweats a lot and comes out in rashes, he has to use bath products prescribed by his GP."

"Sponge, darling go on upstairs I'll be up in a minute to check the temperature of your bath water," Jamie said.

Sponge looked at John and Monica. "I want John and Monica to do bath time."

"I'm gonna stay down here and talk with your mom Sponge, but I promise I'll do bath time before we leave. Will you be OK doing bath time John?" Monica tenderly enquired.

"Yeah I'll be fine. We'll leave you two down here to talk," John replied.

9PM

"Monica can I ask you something?"

"Yeah ask me anything."

John was perched on the third step from the bottom, listening to Monica and Jamie's conversation.

"He's hot, where did you find him?"

"In New York back in ninety-three. I was working a case that involved his son Luke, we found him dead three days later."

"Details Monica, details."

Monica asked, "What do you want to know?" 

Jamie smiled, "Everything, from the beginning."

Monica walked to the fridge for a bottle of orange juice. "We'll be here all night if I tell it from the beginning, I'll give you edited version instead. Do you want a drink Jamie?" she said before taking a large swig of her juice.

"I'm fine thanks Monica. How long have you two been together?"

"We've been together since never ended and forever began. Seriously though about two and half years, but we've been friends around eleven years, maybe longer than that I've stopped counting."

Monica took another large sip of her juice.

"Jamie, what happened at Newark Liberty to make you scared of airports?"

"Ah Sponge told you about that."

Monica looked concerned. "What happened exactly?"

Jamie smiled nervously, looking everywhere to avoid Harmonica's gaze. "A couple of years ago I decided to take Sponge to Dublin for Saint Patrick's Day. We stopped over in New York for two days before coming back home, while I was waiting for our luggage this Japanese guy bumped into me and grabbed my handbag. Luckily I put all our cash in the luggage, all he got was a half-eaten chocolate bar and a bag of Haribo super mix."

"Were you injured or anything?" Monica enquired before finishing off her juice.

"Yeah I got a black eye, cracked ribs and an irrational fear of airports..... Which you found out today." Monica placed a reassuring hand on Jamie's shoulder. "I'm fine Monica, the past is the past."

John was still sitting on the steps, taking in everything the two women were saying. He looked at his watch again, he knew he'd have make a move before his bum got more numb than it already was from staying in the same place for almost an hour.

"Did you ever go ahead and get that piercing you were thinking of having done?"

"I did but I changed my mind about getting my nipples done as there was a guy who went in before me to get his done, when he came out he looked as though he was in so much pain, that I decided to pay a few dollars more and get my clitoral hood done."

"Does John like it?"

"Yeah he does..... Quite a lot. He wants me to get another but one is enough for me."

Jamie said, "I wonder what is taking Sponge and John so long?"

"Maybe they're having a water fight or John could be telling him a bedtime story, come on let's go find out," Monica replied

10:30PM

As Monica and Jamie made their way to the kitchen door, John got up from the step he had been sitting on and took the stairs three at a time, quickly making his way to Sponge's bedroom.

"Sponge, your mom and Monica are coming up, are you just about done with your Lego?"

"I am John, will you read me a story?" Sponge asked.

Monica and Jamie were on the landing, when they heard John screaming.  
Monica opened the bedroom door with such force that the top hinges came off, and the bottom hinges came loose.

"John we heard you screaming like Ned Flanders, what's wrong?" Jamie asked.

John winced at the pain, "I just stood on some fucking Lego. I'd forgotten how dangerous that stuff really can be."

Sponge laughed as he got out of bed to pick up the piece of Lego that a bare-footed John had just stood on, cracking it down the middle.  
"Now can I have my story please John?" 

John smiled, "Yeah I'll tell you a story, are you staying to hear it girls?"

"Pass we'll be downstairs, do you want drink?" Monica asked.

John winked at Monica. "Yeah I'll have something hot."

Monica blushed at John's answer to her question.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently rediscovered this fic that I started in 2003 and have long abandoned it, it is up for adoption for anyone who wants it.
> 
> A case fic set post season 9 and inspired by the Axeman of New Orleans true crime tale from the 1919 (research articles: [KnowledgeNuts (2013)](https://knowledgenuts.com/2013/11/16/the-bizarre-case-of-the-axeman-of-new-orleans/), [Smithsonian (2018)](https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/axeman-new-orleans-preyed-italian-immigrants-180968037/), [Line-Up (2015)](https://the-line-up.com/axeman-of-new-orleans)).
> 
> Any mistakes are my own and unintentional.

11PM

John entered the living room.  
"Monica, where's Jamie?"

"She's gone to make us all a cup of peppermint tea."

"Oh right."

Jamie entered the room carrying a round tray with three cups of peppermint tea and a sugar bowl. John took the tray from Jamie and placed it on the coffee table.

John sat next to Monica, who was laid out on the sofa she rested her head on John's lap.

"Jamie, Sponge finally got off to sleep. I think he's excited that Monica's here."

"Yeah he's missed her, we both have," Jamie replied.

Monica smiled at John and Jamie. "Wow I had no idea I was so highly regarded."

Jamie said, "Monica you are you."

"Huh, how do you mean?" Monica questioned.

John answered, "We mean by the way that you put other people before yourself. How you always brighten the darkest room with your smile."

"With you Monica, it's a case of what you see is what you get," Jamie added.

Jamie smiled at Monica and John, before turning her gaze to the clock on the video. "Guy's I'm off to bed, night."

John smiled, "Good night, god bless."

Jamie left the room and quickly walked up the stairs.

John used his left hand to caress Harmonica's neck, with his right hand he began playing with her hair. "Does Jamie know about us Monica?" he enquired.

"I told her, and she's fine with us sharing."

John stared at Monica for a few moments. "I had fun doing bath time, it brought back some good memories of Luke."

"John, you only look at me like that when you want something."

"Damn Monica, you know me too well. I would like something, but it effectively will be your decision."

Monica swung her legs to the left. "John, I'll think about it okay?" She made sure her feet were on the floor before slowly moving into a sitting position.

"Yeah that's fine, you coming to bed?"

Monica took John's hand and followed him upstairs.

MICHAEL RICHARDS' RESIDENCE, JANUARY 30TH, 11:45AM

Michael was sitting on the sofa watching The Maltese Falcon with the sound off and subtitles on. A few minutes passed before he stood up and walked slowly to the kitchen for a hot drink. While waited for the kettle to boil, he changed the radio station, increasing the volume on his favourite song.

Once he had made his drink, he placed the teaspoon in a small bowl half-filled with warm water. Leaving the radio on he walked steadily back to the living room.

As he sat back down on the sofa he became aware of a draft coming from the bedroom window. Rather than investigate the draft, he continued to watch the movie he had ordered from the cable company.

Outside a tall, masked man was chiselling a panel out of Michael's front door. He heard the faint hum of the radio. "Won't be long before I give the kiss of death to a mortal who has angered the angel," he mumbled. A few moments passed by the time he had successfully removed the panel, discarding it on the rain soaked grass.

The masked man bent down as he crept passed Michael's living room window, making his way round the back of the property. "This is going to be easier than the last one."

He took the window catch off its hook, opening it enough to climb inside, and prepare the bathroom.

Michael picked up the remote, turning the TV on to stand-by. He became aware of another person’s presence, but he wasn’t sure where the presence was coming from.

He got up to investigate, checking every room but not checking behind the doors, or in the airing cupboard. 

He was making his way back to the living room when the masked man grabbed him from behind, keeping his left arm wrapped tightly around Michael’s neck. Although Michael was putting a fight, the masked man was too strong for him and he gave up on trying to break free.

Michael choked, “You bastard, how did you get in here?”

“Very easily Michael, very easily.”

Michael sobbed, “All my money is in a small Nike box under the bed, take it and I won’t report this to the police.”

“I don’t want your money Michael, I want you……DEAD.”

“Why do you want me dead mister?”

“Michael you have angered the angel of death, he has sent me to avenge the wrongs you have made,” the masked man said.

He held the razor up to the light, checking the sharpness of the blade. “Yes that should just about do it.”

“Just about do what?” Michael enquired nervously.

The masked man ignored Michael’s question. Michael was having difficulty breathing but the masked man continued to ignore his pleas and cries and cut his throat from right to left severing his windpipe.  
Michael’s body slipped out of his grip. He picked him up by his armpits dragging his body to the bedroom. 

Once he had propped Michael against the bed, placing the razor just about his head, he picked up a double-edged axe, holding it with both hands he hit Michael so hard that his skull split down the middle, blood and brain tissue began to pour freely from the wounds. The masked man looked down at his trainers, they were soaked with blood and brain tissue.

Before he left the bedroom the masked man took his trainers off cradling them in his left arm. He slowly made his way to the bathroom holding the axe just above the blade. 

Once he was in the bathroom he closed the door, and walked towards the bathtub. He turned on the hot water tap and started to scrub the axe clean before washing the blood off his hands. He smirked while he cleaned the axe, watching in awe as the brain tissue clung to the side of the tub and the blood swirled in sync with the water. 

He rinsed the blood and brain tissue off his trainers with the shower head. He discarded his clothes in a messy pile in the middle of the bathroom floor.  
Slowly he walked back to the bedroom. “Michael you were a star. Thank you.” Climbing out of the window, he felt the dew from the wet grass soak through the soles of his socks as he landed. He put his wet trainers back on and walked to his 1972 Ford Cortina, which he had parked two streets away.

MICHAEL RICHARDS' RESIDENCE, FEBRUARY 2ND, 6:20AM

Detective Malcolm emerged from Michael's bungalow, noticing a blue rental car pull up opposite the crime scene.

"Ma'am do you want me to go over?" Officer Christopher enquired.

"No Otis, I'm pretty sure the FBI will emerge any minute now."

Monica and John got out of the car at the same time.

"Don't know about you Monica, but I sure as hell wasn't expecting an audience."

Monica looked across the street, noticing the young uniformed cop and the plump detective talking.

"Well John, I'm guessing the big piece is Detective Malcolm.

John turned to Monica. "You only judge people on their appearance when you're bleeding."

"Yeah I know I do because I am. I took a couple of tampons from Jamie's packet before we left."

John smiled, "OK let's go."

"Could I see some identification please?" Officer Christopher asked.

Monica showed her badge to the young man. "I'm Agent Reyes, this here is Agent Doggett."

"OK. Detective Malcolm is inside."

John smiled politely. "Thank you officer, I appreciate it."

Inside the bungalow Monica and John were overcome by the smell of dried blood and decomposing flesh.

"Hey who turned the radio on?" John enquired.

"I'm Liz Malcolm, the radio was already on when we got here."

"Detective Malcolm, I was wondering what you could tell me about this man's death, and how it's linked to the previous murder," Monica said.

Detective Malcolm sighed, "Were you not briefed about Mr Richards death before you got here?"

"No ma'am," John smiled.

"It's the same M O for starters. We also know that Isobel's killer also killed Michael. Before you ask we already have a suspect in custody."

Monica looked confused. "Who?"

"Nigel Kuqi. Again, I might add."

"OK thanks for your time ma'am," John said.

As Detective Malcolm made her way out to the back of the property, Monica started laughing.

"Monica, what's funny?" John enquired.

"Nothing really, it's just ironical that Nigel Kuqi would have an axe to grind with his sister and an old man he's never met, well that we're aware of," Monica answered.

John and Monica walked towards Michael's bedroom.

"Hey mind if we take a look?" John asked.

"Go ahead, just watch your step," Officer Christopher said.

Monica looked down at the bare floorboards. "Blood, lots of it and what appears to be brain tissue and bone fragments."

"I'm gonna take a look at the body, I'll see you outside."

"OK John, I'm going to see if he's done the same five things."

John was out front waiting for Monica. A few minutes passed by the time Monica tapped John on the shoulder. "He's done everything."

John gave Monica a sceptical look. "He has?"

"Yeah, the bottom left panel has been chiselled out, a straight razor was found just above the victims head. The axe had been hastily cleaned... Could get a print from it. He left it next to the bath tub, and his clothes were strewn across the bathroom floor."

John smiled. "We can either interrogate Nigel Kuqi or we can go to the morgue."

"I say it's be better to find out what Nigel Kuqi has to say for himself."

John tittered, "Great minds think alike."

NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT, 1:15PM

Monica opened the door of the interview room. John walked in a proceeded to the chair opposite Nigel.

"Nigel Kuqi?" Monica enquired.

Monica followed John into the six foot by six-foot room.

"Yes darling."

John noticed the disapproving look on Harmonica's face.

"I'm Agent Doggett, she's Agent Reyes."

"Pleasure is all mine. Agents, how can I be of assistance?" Nigel smugly enquired.

"Well you can start by telling us what you know about the two recent axe murders, Mr Kuqi," Monica said.

John pressed record on the tape machine. "Interview with Nigel Kuqi of Belleston Isle, New Orleans. Agents present John Doggett and Monica Reyes. The time is thirteen twenty-four. The date is Wednesday February second 2004."

"Mr Kuqi, do you know why you are here?" John asked.

"Yeah, because you lot think I clocked my 'sister' with an axe and also killed and old man in the same way." Nigel answered.

"Why did you and your sister Isobel not speak?" Monica enquired.

"Because she burnt down the family home on purpose, killing all my closest relatives."

John looked confused. "So what you are saying is that your sister who at the time was just nine years old, was a pyromaniac. Am I right?"

"Yeah, she left some candles burning near to the curtains in her bedroom. She'd fallen asleep and forgot to blow them out. I came home after a night out to find the house in the flames, Isobel claimed she knew nothing of how the fire started."

"Please continue," Monica smiled.

"Anyway after an investigation it was revealed that the fire had been started by candles left burning in the back bedroom, Isobel's room. I never forgave her for it, now she's dead."

John showed Nigel a picture of Michael Richards. "For the tape I'm showing the suspect a picture of the latest victim."

"What can you tell me about this man?" John added.

"I've never met him, though I have seen him around. I worked for his son a few years back."

Monica snapped, "What's his name then?"

"He's Michael Richards, last time I saw him he was sixty-nine. His son Owen decided to quit the family business and moved to Tacoma. That was about five years ago."

Nigel added, "Why do you want to know darling?"

John noticed Harmonica's anger rising. "Interview terminated at fourteen hundred hours."

"Agent Reyes, outside now."

Nigel continued to smile smugly.

Once they were outside, Monica walked over to the water cooler for a drink.

"What did you do that for John?" Monica snapped.

"What, stop the Interview?"

"Yeah, stop the interview!"

"Monica, in there you were basically saying to him, you've done it I know you have."

"John, he is hiding something, he contradicted himself about knowing Michael Richards. He calls me 'darling' once more I'll send him into the middle of next week."

"I know he did, that's why you're going across to the county morgue, and I'm staying here to continue questioning him."

"Oh great! So I get PMT and YOU make ME do all the legwork. Thanks a million."

John went back into the interview room.

Monica kicked a syringe bin in frustration as she stormed out of the police station.

NEW ORLEANS COUNTY MORGUE, 3:13PM 

Monica burst through the double doors, causing the security guards to stare at her.

"Ma'am, identification please."

"Oh sorry." Monica showed the middle-aged man her badge.

The pathologist, Clara Quinn is waiting for you in lab four. Through the next set of double doors, and it's the first on the left."

Monica smiled politely. "Thank you."

"Are you with the FBI?" Clara enquired.

"I am yes. I have to say Doctor Quinn you look very familiar to me," Monica said.

"Oh right, can we just get on with this please, Agent Reyes?"

"Of course."

"Before I show you the body Agent Reyes I want you to prepare yourself for the injuries." Clara opened the door and pulled out the Gurney containing Michael Richards' body.

"I'm ready, show me please."

Clara pulled the sheet back. "As you can see his windpipe was severed, although I can't be sure if it was that or the axe wound that killed him."

"What do you mean by not sure?" Monica enquired.

"I mean that he may have still been breathing... Barely I may say before he was hit in the head."

"Mind if I take a closer look?"

Clara moved the sheet down to Michael's waist. 

"Jesus, I've seen some pretty fucked up stuff in my time... But that is disgusting."

Monica added, "Could you tell me what you found, other than the obvious?"

"Yes of course. Please have a set," Clara said as she pointed to a medium sized desk near to the door.

"I've done a full autopsy of the victim. I found certain things to be... A little strange."

"Hit me, I do strange on a daily basis it's part of my job description," Monica said.

"When I weighed his vital organs, his heart weighed less than it should have done for a man of his size."

"What do you mean by less?" Monica questioned.

"I mean that he may have had a heart attack just as his throat was cut, which would mean that it was wasn't the knife or axe wounds that killed him, it'd be natural causes."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah there were a couple of things that I noticed."

"Go ahead."

"The first thing I noticed was that this man was raped post mortem. The killer was extremely careful as my assistant and I couldn't get a print from the axe nor could we get any DNA from the victim other than his own."

"You mean we could be dealing with a necrophiliac?"

"Yes but I'll have to check the autopsy report of the previous victim, Isobel Jones for signs of a post mortem sexual assault."

Monica handed Clara her card. "If you find anything else Doctor Quinn please call me."

"I will Agent Reyes, thank you for coming."

Before Monica left the morgue she shook hands with the petite redhead.

"Thank you for your time Doctor Quinn," Monica said.

NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT, 6:59PM

Monica pulled up outside the police station and waited for John to come out. She tilted her head back, with her gaze fixed on the roof she began drifting slowly into a peaceful daydream.

As John exited the building he noticed Monica waiting for him, before he go to the car his mobile bleeped. He read the text message from Monica before continuing towards the car.

Monica became a little jumpy when John opened the passenger door. He'd just disturbed an erotic daydream.

"Monica, you calmed it down a bit? It's just that I'd rather take a cab back to Jamie's than have you rip my head off."

"I'm a little calmer, I've had Frank for company. How did the rest of the interview go?"

John noticed the bag of doughnuts on the back seat.

"Before I get to that is there any left?"

"I've saved two, one for you one for me."

John reached for the bag. Once he was sure he had a tight grip of it he opened it up.

"Mmmm fruity."

John passed one of the doughnuts to Monica.

Monica chuckled as she took a bit of her doughnut. "This doughnut has purple in it. Purple is a fruit."

"Too many Simpsons reruns," John mumbled.

Once Monica had finished her doughnut, she put the car into drive and decided on taking a shortcut to a secluded park.

"Where are we going?" John enquired.

"I have something planned, although it's a little cold for my plan to work properly.

"Don't you want to know what Nigel Kuqi said?"

"I do John."

"Right then, he said that he'd gone over to see Isobel about a possible reconciliation after he'd heard rumours of what she was doing for money. It would have been impossible for him to have killed them both as he has irreparable nerve damage in his left arm and has a limited usage. He's also a drug addict, a routine blood test by the FME confirmed that."

"What was Isobel doing for money? What drugs has he been using?" Monica questioned.

"You know how it said Isobel worked three jobs, she actually worked just one. She was a prostitute forced into it by her foster mom. Nigel is a cocaine addict," John answered.

"Sick bitch you don't whore kids out even if they aren't your own. Did he name his supplier?"

"No he didn't."

Monica pressed her foot harder against the accelerator.

"Monica, what did you find out at the morgue?" John asked.

"OK Michael Richards had a heart attack literally moments before his throat was cut, so a cause of death can't be determined as yet. He was seventy-four, although he looked much younger. I also found out something very interesting."

"Carry on Monica."

"Michael Richards was raped by his killer... Post mortem."

John's face drained of colour. "You mean we could be dealing with a necrophiliac?"

Monica remained silent.

LITTLE PARK, SOUTH EAST NEW ORLEANS, 7:45PM

"You're gonna have to close your eyes once we get out John, and hold my hand otherwise what I have planned won't be a surprise."

"OK you're the boss."

Monica smiled at John's comment.

Once they were out of the car Monica walked around to the passenger side and linked arms with John. She noticed Kyle leaning against an oak tree and waved to him.

"Monica, are you still with me?" John nervously enquired.

"Yeah I'm still here."

Kyle began walking towards Monica and John.

"Hey Monica," Kyle said.

"Can I open my eyes?" John said.

"Of course you can big foot."

It took John a few moments to adjust his eyes to the dusky sky. He noticed the small picnic that Kyle had set up under the oak tree.

"It's beautiful Monica. You did all this for me?"

"Yeah I felt I should apologize for my behaviour of late."

"If this is for earlier then it's fine, you don't have to."

"Yeah but I just felt that it was the right thing to do."

John asked, "Who cooked all this?"

"I did John, I'm a fully trained chef and have my own restaurant," Kyle answered.

"Hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"Bye Kyle, I'll give you a shout when were done," Monica said.

Kyle began walking towards Harmonica's rental car. "That's fine Monica. I'll wait in your car."

Monica threw her car keys to Kyle.

John sat down on the tartan picnic blanket. Monica sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

John said, "This is Monica, I could get used to this."

"Mmmmm yeah me too."

John kissed Monica on the forehead.

"Mias labios ruego servicio."

"What does that mean Monica?" John thoughtfully enquired.

"It means 'my lips require service' so kiss me."

"Oh I get you."

Monica lifted her head from John's shoulder, moving just enough for her mouth to be level with his.

As they broke apart John said, "I've been waiting for that all day."

"So have I," Monica dreamily enquired.

"Monica, I'm gonna have to find more ways of pissing you off more often, if this is how you're gonna be making it up."

"Why? It’s not like I got in 'diva mode' every month."

"I know you don't. Usually you just take a day off and watch Penny Serenade. I'm actually talking about this spread Kyle put on for us."

"John I have to confess something," Monica said.

"I don't think I'm going to like this."

"This was actually Kyle's idea. Jamie was raving about you and how hot you are. Kyle wanted to see for himself."

"Why would Kyle want to do that?"

Monica laughed, "Kyle's bi-sexual and wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"Oh right, I'm done Monica are you?"

"Yeah I'm finished."

As John stood up he held onto Harmonica's arm and pulled her to her feet.

"C'mon Monica, let's go. This was really lovely."

"I know it was lovely... You really should be thanking Kyle, after all he worked his ass off to get the food ready in time."

NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT, 3RD FEBRUARY, 8:30AM

Ron Phillipson was standing in front of a pin board, next to the flip chart he was planning on using during his briefing. The briefing room was the same size as the boardroom which was directly above it.  
Heads of the fifty plus officers turned when Monica and John entered the room – ten minutes late.

"Agents Reyes and Doggett, I presume," Ron said.

"Your presumptions are spot on sir, sorry we're late we got a little lost on our way here," Monica said apologetically.

Ron smiled at the agents before turning his attention to the other law enforcement officers in the room.

"As you already know very well there have been two murders, with identical features. I have called you all in today to help build the profile of the killer. Hopefully we'll have a suspect in custody before he can strike again."

Jamie knocked on the glass door, before opening it and entering the room. "Sorry to interrupt sir, but I have a woman downstairs at the front desk, claiming she knows who Bludgeoned Michael Richards."

John turned to Jamie. "Do you want me to question her?" he asked.

Ron looked over to Monica and John. "You can both ask her questions. Try to poke holes in her story, if she you don't feel that she's a credible witness. Do that though at your own discretion, we don't want nor can we afford any hefty lawsuits."

Monica smiled, trying not to laugh. "Yes sir."

John held the door open for Monica and followed her out and down the stairs to the first floor.

Jamie said, "That's Mary Cuthbert, Michael Richards' next door neighbour. She believes she knows the killer."

"Okay Jamie, thanks we'll take it from here," Monica said.


End file.
